


The Proving

by amerande



Series: Rumbelle Showdown 1 [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerande/pseuds/amerande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpletiltskin makes an important breakthrough.</p>
<p>My entry (as Bast) for round 3 of the Rumbelle Showdown. <br/>Prompt: Breakfast, Do Not Disturb, His Secretary</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proving

“What is it about a closed door that makes you want to open it?” Rumplestiltskin quipped from across his workroom as Belle entered. “Most people would have the common sense to think that a closed door in the Dark Castle means  _do not disturb_ .  _Especially_ the door to this room.”

Belle rolled her eyes his remark and crossed over to a small and mostly uncluttered table, where she set down the tray carrying his breakfast.

“You didn't leave this room at all yesterday and I don't think you ate dinner the night before that. People might talk if I let you die of hunger, you know.”

Rumplestiltskin paused in his efforts and turned to face her, lips pursed in a mock-serious expression. “I'm not going to let a little thing like hunger kill me, dearie.”

“Even so,” she said, moving some stacks of parchment out of the way and setting out his plate, “it isn't sensible to face important work on an empty stomach. Come over here and eat.”

It occurred to Belle that she'd come quite a long way from nearly quaking in fear when she accidentally dropped the Dark One's teacup to casually ordering him to sit and eat like a recalcitrant child. Still, one couldn't live with the world's greatest sorcerer for very long before the awe associated with that title began to wear a little thin.

He didn't move. “Now what makes you say this is important, hmm?”

“If it wasn't important,” she said patiently, “you wouldn't be working on it straight through the day and night.”

Rumplestiltskin chose to let that slide. With an errant wave of his hand, he sent Belle's tray and his own plate of breakfast away in a puff of magic smoke. She gave a little  _huff_ of displeasure, which he ignored.

“What I'm working on cannot be interrupted. Just a little longer...” His sentence trailed off as he turned his back to her and busied himself with some implements on his worktable.

Belle turned to leave, but he spoke again before she made it to the door.

“While you're here anyway,” he said in the sly voice she'd come to recognize as a sort of mask he wore when he was hiding something of himself away, “you may as well make yourself useful.”

“Oh, may I?” she asked archly. “And how might I be of use to you?”

Not looking up from his work, the Dark One flapped a hand at the table that had so recently held the breakfast intended for him. Belle saw a sheaf of clean parchment that had not been there before, accompanied by a pen and inkwell.

“Take notes,” he instructed. “It slows me down to do it myself.”

Belle dutifully sat and dipped the pen into the ink then watched him intently, waiting for instruction.

Over the course of the morning, she wrote page after page of notes while Rumplestiltskin talked, gesticulated, and worked. Well-read though she was, Belle had only the slightest understanding of the true significance any of what she wrote, and could only hope that she was accurately transcribing everything that he needed. The majority of the notes she took pertained to a potion Rumplestiltskin seemed to be making – or, rather, inventing.  _Three turns clockwise, one quarter turn anti-clockwise for five minutes_ , he'd say while suiting action to word, or  _add chopped roots of nightshade and let rest precisely seven minutes and twenty-three seconds._ She prided herself on only having to ask for spelling clarification for one or two of the more exotic ingredients he mentioned, thanks in no small part to some of the reading she'd done during her stay at the Dark Castle.

Not being familiar with the art of potionmaking, or really of any magic, Belle couldn't begin to guess at what it was Rumplestiltskin was working on, but he bent to it with such devotion that she knew her guess that it was important to him was spot on.

As the morning began to give way to afternoon, Rumplestiltskin decanted the solution he'd been working on. When it became clear that his work was done for now, Belle rearranged the notes she'd taken, put the cap on the inkwell, and stood up.

“Alright, I've helped you – now it's time for you to eat,” she said with more sternness than she felt.

Rumplestiltskin gave her a startled glance, as if he'd forgotten that she was around.

“Oh, very well,” he said with unexpected mildness.

They descended to the open room where Rumplestiltskin kept his great wheel and took his meals. As they ate the lunch that Belle had brought to him hours ago as breakfast, the sorcerer looking through the notes she'd taken, making her quite self-conscious with his scrutiny of her work.

At length, he grunted. “Not bad, dearie.”

“Am I to add secretary and note-taker to my list of responsibilities, then?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Oh, yes, yes,” he responded, his face lighting up all at once. “You'll take my dictation, keep up with my correspondences, that sort of thing. The Dark One can't fall behind on his letters, you know.” He giggled.

When lunch was over and Rumplestiltskin made his way back up to his tower workroom, Belle followed for no better reason than because she could. He'd made no indication that she was still required or even welcome, but she trailed after him all the same.

Belle followed closely after Rumplestiltskin as he approached the worktable and took up the bottle and inspected it minutely.

The bottled potion looked different now; it glowed with a purple light that was like the shine of Rumplestiltskin's own magic and yet strange. She felt queasy just to look at it.

A small gesture and a puff of magic smoke brought a skein of golden thread to Rumplestiltskin's hand. Belle recognized the bundle as one of the countless many stowed away in the many unoccupied rooms of the Dark Castle. He unstoppered the bottle and poured the potion over the golden thread with a hand that trembled ever so slightly.

Rumplestiltskin was holding his breath, and unsure of what to expect, Belle found herself following suit.

A moment passed, and then another, and Belle watched as the intensity of Rumplestiltskin's gaze withered into resignation.

Then the thread disappeared.

 

Rumplestiltskin gave voice to a strangled cry, and Belle saw naked glee in his face. She had been spending no small portion of her time, lately, paying close attention to Rumplestiltskin and his face – sometimes more than she might admit was strictly proper, and for reasons that were not always altogether clear even to herself. But  _this_ , this exultation and something that spoke of pain and almost greed, this ferocious determination in his eyes – she had seen nothing like it. The Dark One could be malevolent, silly, capricious, and cruel all in turn, but now there was a blazing, wild look to him that quite took her breath away. She felt as if she were seeing Rumplestiltskin for the first time, like every other moment she'd known him he had been carefully hidden from view.

“ _Bae_ .” The word was barely a whisper.

“Sorry, what?” asked Belle.

Rumplestiltskin looked up from his empty hand. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder and for a moment she was afraid he would hurt her with his grip.

“My boy is lost, Belle,” he said, his voice choked and tight, “but I think I've found a way to him.”

 

 


End file.
